Jerk
by Yuko Hakubi
Summary: A story I began writing after watching the Cowboy Bebop movie. Slight spoilers, don't read if you haven't watched the last episodes. FayexSpike, ViciousxGren, and Ed have been written. Some are romance, some are angst. Please respond, I like feedback!
1. Default Chapter

**Yay! My second Cowboy Bebop fic----not like anyone cares...jeez...oh well, at least I try, right?**

**Jerk**   
**By Female Sesshoumaru/Jupiter Jazz**  
  
Gentle rhythms coaxed my body into a sensual sway, my hips rocking back and forth as I danced with this unknown man in front of me.  
I would do anything to forget him. Anything to erase that jerk of a cowboy from my mind--even if it meant continually sleeping with other men. I didn't care who they were, so long as they could satisfy me long enough to forget him, even if only for a moment.  
  
It was pathetic; I knew it was, and yet, I didn't care.  
  
What had I become? Surely I was better than this--surely I was above seducing drunks in some sleazy bar who were from God-knows-where and had Hell-knows-what diseases that I could contract.  
  
I was better...wasn't I?  
  
Apparently not. I'd grab any item of clothing that would label me as some sex-crazed slut, even if it meant wearing clothes with less cloth than my yellow vinyl shorts and vest. And even if I wasn't dressed like a prostitute, it wasn't like I'd have to beg a man to sleep with me; I knew I was attractive.  
But tonight seemed different for some reason. I kept hearing his voice in my head, teasing me and calling me derogatory names--as well as idiotic comments about the kid and that stupid dog. I saw his seriousness when he left to fight that silver-haired bastard.  
  
Though the music hadn't stopped yet, I stumbled from the dance floor like a puppet cut from its strings, suddenly freezing and desperate to hide myself. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide from everything.  
Hot tears returned to stain my cheeks as I slid into a sitting position against the gray wall, paint chipping off into my hair and onto the yellow dress shirt I wore.  
I was freezing. The clothes I wore, though far from sluttish, didn't seem to keep my body heat, which was flowing away with my tears.  
  
Why had he had to leave? Why had he gone to defend the honor of that stupid blonde wench? Why couldn't he have seen that I---  
  
I wanted comfort. I wanted him back. Maybe if I sought forgiveness in God, like I had done as a child, I would have a chance...no. Even if God forgave me, I knew I could never forgive myself. I could never be pure again, not with the weight of so much sin and blood on my shoulders.  
I had no hope. With him, I could live. But without him, I would most certainly die.  
  
The yellow dress shirt slipped off my shoulder, and I yanked the collar up to my nose, searching for the scent of sage and sandalwood that belonged solely to him.  
It was gone. I only smelled the damning scent of lilacs and and vanilla, the one he had complained about one night after the Teddy Bomber incident. A hand caressed my cheek, the calloused pad of the thumb pushing a tear away and smearing my eyeliner. A deep, familiar voice insulted me, calling me yet another derogatory name.  
Out of habit, my hand reached up to slap the offending man, only to be halted as I caressed the stubbled cheek. My hand drew over his lips, and---  
  
I woke up. I looked over my shoulder at him, the arm carelessly slung over my waist wrinkling my oversized t-shirt. He was still asleep, snoring as he usually did. I clamped his nose shut with my thumb and forefinger, pressing my lips to his to cut off his air supply and stop him from snoring.  
He coughed as I released him, straddling his hips. One eye opened lazily, asking me what in space he had done.  
I crossed my arms and smirked, and he dropped a dorky white cowboy hat on my head before letting out a wolf whistle I knew our companions could hear.  
  
One word left my mouth.  
  
"Jerk."


	2. Dreams

Review responses:

Kate Spiegel: Thanks! Believe it or not, that was my first Spike/Faye fic.

Ni9htdreame12: The other CB fic is listed in my profile—maybe ppl will actually read it...

Kendra Luehr: Thank you! That's what my friend says too, but I have a hard time believing her because she tells me most things are good...and in response to your question---no, the mystery man that she woke up next to was indeed Spike. I originally was going to make it so that it was the cowboy (can't remember his name) from the Teddy Bomber episode, but I changed it to Spike instead.

Twilightfucker: Not a one time only thing, I just have to get in the right mood... 

BunnWw: The other chapters feature other characters—and are quite a bit longer. That one just happened to be the one I had on hand at the moment.

Author's note-I know the first chapter was about Spike and Faye, but I have decided that I am going to make each chapter about a different pairing, some of which are not always commonplace. Oh well, I hope you still like it---I usually don't write stuff like this—I'm more into the Rurouni Kenshin fanfics rather than Cowboy Bebop.

Jerk: Chapter two- Dream

Jazz.

The kind of sexy beat that can go from slow and sensual to fast and mindless in an instant, wrapping the mind in the haze of raw sexuality that is known as music. From beneath the dark shadow of my cloak, I watch him. The man I have been combating my feelings for ever since Titan.

Every night is the same. I go to that dingy little bar, and watch him. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and sex is heavy in the smoke filled air, and various homosexual patrons edge nervously around my battered chair as though I am the devil himself. I have made it perfectly clear, though, that I have no interest in any of them.

My only desire is the beautiful man sitting before me in the front of the room, his hair cascading down his back in silken sapphire waves as he tilts his head towards the dirty ceiling. His fingers dance lazily over the saxophone, and I feel the desire to have those fingers dancing over my body instead of the cold metal.

The sexual aura is heavy in the air now, the haze of alcohol wrapping me in the warm fingers of my fantasies. And even as I stare at him hungrily, sapphire eyes never see me in the crowd of faceless people when he casts a wayward glance around the room. Maybe they do see me---I'll never know, and I find that I don't really care.

My tongue slides slowly from the cavern of my mouth to wet dry lips as I continue to stare at him, still oblivious to me. A transvestite places himself gingerly on my lap, blocking my view, and I can smell his desire. He looks up at me in shock as I push him to the ground; he looks pathetic, and looks nothing like a woman.

I ignore the clicking of thick heels as the man-whore stalks off, returning to gaze at him. The music has stopped, and the aura is fading. With gentle hands he places his sax back in the velvet-lined case, his eyes filled with a sadness I know I am responsible for causing. The other patrons are stumbling towards the doors with drunken stupors and one night stands that many of them will never meet again. I am gradually shoved towards the exits with them, trying to avoid being crushed by those who cannot wait to be home with their lovers.

Until I see one going against the crowd. Going back towards him. I would be damned if I ever let him be touched by someone other than me.

By the time that I reach him, the sexual aura is long gone, and he is arguing with a man a few years younger than myself.

I have made my decision.

I'll tell him.

Even if it kills me.

I pull my hood down as the stranger leaves, wondering vaguely if I will regret this when I am solemn and sober once more. He backs up, reaching for something, anything to defend himself from me.

I grabbed his hands, and lips met lips roughly.

It's morning now, and I watch him sleep peacefully next to me. He doesn't know that I won't be there when he wakes up. I'll just be a dream, a fantasy that will never become real.

The next time I saw him, he lay dying---blood flowing from his heart as he reached out to me, asking why. My comrade lies dead next to me, and I kneel next to the man he shot.

"Why?" His face is full of pain and anger, and the feeling of betrayal.

"I am but a fantasy that can never be real, no matter how much you wish it to be so." There is nothing more I can say.

Why did I not say that I had wanted it to be real? Was it because of the way that I am? Or is it because all I am living is just a dream that will end as I lay here dying from the bullet of a former comrade?

Ooh...didja find out who the blue-haired man was?

And the pairing is---------------Gren/Vicious! My first shounen ai! I'm proud of myself!


	3. White Noise Ed

Jerk Chapter Three: White Noise

By Hakubi

Author's Note: After forever, I finally have the inspiration to write the third chapter of Jerk. Thank God I haven't gotten reviewers in this story who tell me "Get off ur f-ing daily life and update the story!" I hope I never shall. But now that Hakubi has her own computer (thanks Uncle Allen and Aunt Deb!), she should be able to work on stories at home without trouble. So faster updates!

Warnings: Spoilers for random parts of the series, including the final few episodes. So if you haven't watched the entire series, you have been fairly warned!

She's screaming again. Shouting at him for stealing her cigarettes. It's all she seems to do anymore, and all that she ever has done, for as long as Ed has been here. Faye-Faye and Spike person, always fighting and screaming and fucking.

Yes. _Edward_ said _fu-cking_. Should Ed spell it out for you?

But it's all just noise now. Noise in the back of Edward's head, fuzzy and white like a little kitty. Ed doesn't hear them speaking anymore, only blah-blah-blah. And bark-bark from Ein. Jet goes blah-blah too. And they all wonder why Ed looks like a space cadet all the time.

Beep, beep, beep-boop beep!

Ed is R2-D2 now! Edward likes to download old holo-vids and watch them. Really old movies that were made before Earth's surface got all messed up. Like _Star Wars_, and _Star Trek_, and _Lord of the Rings_. Old movies with old themes that don't apply to the general society of space anymore. Ed is Aragorn now, to return to Gondor and become the High King as the bloodline of Arathorn demands. Ed is Captain Kirk, Ed is...

Edward is drooling.

Ed is only a kid, who couldn't be heard through all the noise. The white, fuzzely noise created by the other inhabitants of the Bebop. Ed is just a stupid, drooling juvenile who probably knows more about the Bebop, and everything than the crewmembers _combined_. Radical Edward, the best hacker in the entire known galaxy, was a little black silence in the sea of white fuzz.

Don't put Ed in bed, Jet!

E'd's _not_ sleepy! Ed's just drowsy because it's so cold around Pluto. Ed wants to stay up and watch more holo-vids. Ed doesn't want to be treated like a kid, because Ed isn't a kid. Ed is more of an adult than anyone else here!

PUT ED DOWN!

Ed will bite you, Jet! Ed will! Don't test Ed's nasty temper or Ed will get you back! Just put Ed down, so that Ed can get back to being Ed.

_Blood_.

Ed told Jet she would bite him! And now Jet is making more fuzzies. The cursing fuzzies, like Ed's papa used to do when he got mad at Ed's mother. Ed is scared of cursing fuzzies. Ed will hide under the couch; she doesn't want to be hit, because hitting hurts. But Ed can't stay under the couch forever, because Spike-person drags her out. But Jet is just bandaging his hand, and pats Ed on the head so that she knows there are no hard feelings.

Goodbye, Bebop!

Ed isn't a kid anymore. Ed is a woman now, and everybody she knew is gone, replaced by people she doesn't want to know. Ed owns a business now, under the name Francois Wong. And...even though Ed is an adult now, she still hears the noise, but it's faded and balding.

A letter, for _Radical Edward_?

Ed's secretary almost threw it away, but Ed caught her. May had to give it, because Radical Edward is Miss Francois. Now go away, pretty May. Ed wants time to herself, to see who would send a letter addressed to Radical Edward. So go away, May, come back tomorrow to restart your day. It would be strange to Radical Edward, to see scribbled words on a page that don't make any noise. Ed, not Francois, is holding a letter from Jet. He wants to come visit her, to see what Ed has become, and to tell Ed what happened to Faye-Faye and Spike-person.

Radical Edward lives again as she checks the Bebop's location with her supercomputer.

Edward hates the Venus spaceport, because there are so many fuzzies. It makes Ed's ears want to bleed. Fuzzy white kitty, and old decrepit Ein in his basket, whining because he wants food. But Ed must wait for Jet, and so Ein has to wait too. Her hand is tapping the old controller, and her fingers push on the analog stick to make the Bebop sway as it docks in one of the far left ports. Jet is probably making cursing fuzzies for Ed, because she is playing.

Bad Ein! Ein doesn't pull on Ed's skirt!

Now Ed's skirt has a tear, all the way up to the knee. Ed's nice blue silk skirt from one of the Chinese-controlled settlements. Ed got it last Christmas from her then-boyfriend, Aiden. And Ein is whining again, but he has to be patient, like Francois is.

Jet!

Ed wants to run to him, but Francois won't let her. Ed really wants to jump on his back, to see what he would do. And it's not like Ed's not still light; Ed is still as slender as she ever was while she lived on the Bebop. But it would be mean to Jet, to jump on him when he doesn't recognize her, or seem to realize that she is standing in front of him until he sees Ein.

Jet doesn't quite believe that it's Ed standing in front of him, because Ed was so young.

Ed is still young, if you want to put it that way. After all, Ed is only twenty-six going on thirteen. Francois wants to take over, but this is Jet. He is not one of the people who works for Ed; he is Jet. And Jet means Bebop, which means Ed can be Ed and not stuffy Francois.

Jet and Ed and Ein are the only ones left of the noise now.

Ed is reading the report from the coroner, the one that Jet has been trying to send to her for over twelve years. Well, rather the two reports. One for Spike-person, and one for Faye-Faye. They say that Spike-person was murdered by the bad man called Vicious, right after Vicious murdered that Julia lady. And Faye committed suicide about six months later, in a tiny public bathroom on Ganymede while they were in between jobs. All the money that Faye owed Jet was inside a little box under her bed, along with some pictures of Spike-person, and even one or two of Ed. Poor Faye-Faye never got to find out what her past was, not completely. And Spike-person didn't get to die an old man.

Why...is Ed crying?

Why...when they never liked Ed? They always yelled, they never treated Ed like a person. Ed was just Ed, the hacker. Jet, though...Jet treated Ed like a person. Like a, a...Ed can't remember the word. _Daughter_-it's the word from Francois. And it's Francois, not Ed, who throws her arms around Jet to cry for the ones who were her family. Dysfunctional, but a family.

And Ed is fading for good into the noise as she surrenders her body to Francois. Surrenders her body to Aiden, whom she got back together with. Surrenders her body to the labor of children. A little girl.

"Faye."

And a little boy, too, who Aiden swears looks like those old pictures his partner keeps.

"Spike."

Edward is gone, no more pesky noise. No more haunting 'Radical' to add to the name she had as a kid. No more rumours.

So...why is _Francois_ crying, when she has wanted to be free of Ed for so long?

Meh...I'm not terribly happy with this chapter. Review, please, NO FLAMES!


End file.
